19 July 2011
Weekly Totals
From July 10th - 16th. I'm a little behind in my posting.
Run: 31
Swim: 1.33
ike: 27
Hike: 0
Oops - that "ike" is supposed to be "Bike," and not hours spent watching The Ike and Tina Turner Story on Lifetime*. (have you guys seen that flick? Angela Bassett is HOT! I'd kill for those arms!)
*actual hours spent watching The Ike and Tina movie, which for some reason has been showing repeatedly on some crap channel: approx. 4.2. Hey, don't judge me!
Run: 31
Swim: 1.33
ike: 27
Hike: 0
Oops - that "ike" is supposed to be "Bike," and not hours spent watching The Ike and Tina Turner Story on Lifetime*. (have you guys seen that flick? Angela Bassett is HOT! I'd kill for those arms!)
*actual hours spent watching The Ike and Tina movie, which for some reason has been showing repeatedly on some crap channel: approx. 4.2. Hey, don't judge me!
I'm Thinking A Lot About Bicycles Lately.
Bicycles are such a great metaphor for life. They're all about balance and trust. I'm pretty good with the trust part. The balance part is always a work in progress.
I've been invited to take part in a bike trip across America. I'm considering it. My holdups are fear about whether I can actually complete such a journey, and worries about the whole financial piece of it. Not only would I not be working for awhile, which means zero income, but I would also need to drop a butt load of my hard earned cash on a ton of gear. I could do it, but it would be a stretch...hmmm...what do you guys think? Imagine what amazing things we could all do if money wasn't such a huge part of our survival.
Anyway, enough about all that. Here's your poem of the day. It's about bicycles, of course.
BICYCLES
Nikki Giovanni, thank you for writing and sharing this (and not suing me for reprinting it without permission).
Midnight poems are bicycles
Taking us on safer journeys
Than jets
Quicker journeys
Than walking
But never as beautiful
A journey
As my back
Touching you under the quilt
Midnight poems
Sing a sweet song
Saying everything
Is all right
Everything
Is
Here for us
I reach out
To catch the laughter
The dog thinks
I need a kiss
Bicycles move
With the flow
Of the earth
Like a cloud
So quiet
In the October sky
Like licking ice cream
From a cone
Like knowing you
Will always
Be there
All day long I wait
For the sunset
The first star
The moon rise
I move
To a midnight
Poem
Called
You
Propping
Against
The dangers
I've been invited to take part in a bike trip across America. I'm considering it. My holdups are fear about whether I can actually complete such a journey, and worries about the whole financial piece of it. Not only would I not be working for awhile, which means zero income, but I would also need to drop a butt load of my hard earned cash on a ton of gear. I could do it, but it would be a stretch...hmmm...what do you guys think? Imagine what amazing things we could all do if money wasn't such a huge part of our survival.
Anyway, enough about all that. Here's your poem of the day. It's about bicycles, of course.
BICYCLES
Nikki Giovanni, thank you for writing and sharing this (and not suing me for reprinting it without permission).
Midnight poems are bicycles
Taking us on safer journeys
Than jets
Quicker journeys
Than walking
But never as beautiful
A journey
As my back
Touching you under the quilt
Midnight poems
Sing a sweet song
Saying everything
Is all right
Everything
Is
Here for us
I reach out
To catch the laughter
The dog thinks
I need a kiss
Bicycles move
With the flow
Of the earth
Like a cloud
So quiet
In the October sky
Like licking ice cream
From a cone
Like knowing you
Will always
Be there
All day long I wait
For the sunset
The first star
The moon rise
I move
To a midnight
Poem
Called
You
Propping
Against
The dangers
14 July 2011
Grossness
I keep smelling mayonnaise. There is an incredibly strong mayo stench in my apartment.
It's making me wanna puke.
I hate mayonnaise. More than anything. More than when I forget to charge my cell. More than Katy Perry. More than that ridiculous video of the dog saying "I LOVE YOU." MORE THAN RUNNING UPHILL, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
There has NEVER been mayonnaise in my apartment. EVER.
WHERE IS IT COMING FROM?!?
It's making me wanna puke.
I hate mayonnaise. More than anything. More than when I forget to charge my cell. More than Katy Perry. More than that ridiculous video of the dog saying "I LOVE YOU." MORE THAN RUNNING UPHILL, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
There has NEVER been mayonnaise in my apartment. EVER.
WHERE IS IT COMING FROM?!?
12 July 2011
RUN
Great run today. I was Kara Freaking Goucher out there.
Only without the abs. Or speed. Or cool sponsorships. And thank G.O.D. it was without the baby stroller.
Time to reward myself with a nice, cold, cheap yellow beer.
Only without the abs. Or speed. Or cool sponsorships. And thank G.O.D. it was without the baby stroller.
Time to reward myself with a nice, cold, cheap yellow beer.
11 July 2011
Ha!
Going through some stuff on my old blog before it vanishes to wherever blogs vanish to when they're deleted. Came across this little gem from my time spent teaching in Korea.
Tennis
Running buddy and I snagged some super cool rackets (I named mine Optimus Prime) and went to some park in a somewhat questionable part of town to play a few games.
I don't wanna brag or anything, but I WON A GAME! out of the 4 that we played. I AM AWESOME! but not at tennis. I ROCK! at air guitar.
It was pretty fun running around like a lunatic for awhile, especially when we decided to play with 2 balls at once. That whole crazy scoring system, though...that's gotta change.
I don't wanna brag or anything, but I WON A GAME! out of the 4 that we played. I AM AWESOME! but not at tennis. I ROCK! at air guitar.
It was pretty fun running around like a lunatic for awhile, especially when we decided to play with 2 balls at once. That whole crazy scoring system, though...that's gotta change.
love
Your poem for today:
The Prison Cell
It is possible...
It is possible at least sometimes...
It is possible especially now
To ride a horse
Inside a prison cell
And run away...
It is possible for prison walls
To disappear,
For the cell to become a distant land
Without frontiers:
What did you do with the walls?
I gave them back to the rocks.
And what did you do with the ceiling?
I turned it into a saddle.
And your chain?
I turned it into a pencil.
The prison guard got angry.
He put an end to the dialogue.
He said he didn't care for poetry,
And bolted the door of my cell.
He came back to see me
In the morning.
He shouted at me:
Where did all this water come from?
I brought it from the Nile.
And the trees?
From the orchards of Damascus.
And the music?
From my heartbeat.
The prison guard got mad.
He put an end to my dialogue.
He said he didn't like my poetry,
And bolted the door of my cell.
But he returned in the evening:
Where did this moon come from?
From the nights of Baghdad.
And the wine?
From the vineyards of Algiers.
And this freedom?
From the chain you tied me with last night.
The prison guard grew so sad...
He begged me to give him back
His freedom.
— Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008)
Translated by Ben Bennani
The Prison Cell
It is possible...
It is possible at least sometimes...
It is possible especially now
To ride a horse
Inside a prison cell
And run away...
It is possible for prison walls
To disappear,
For the cell to become a distant land
Without frontiers:
What did you do with the walls?
I gave them back to the rocks.
And what did you do with the ceiling?
I turned it into a saddle.
And your chain?
I turned it into a pencil.
The prison guard got angry.
He put an end to the dialogue.
He said he didn't care for poetry,
And bolted the door of my cell.
He came back to see me
In the morning.
He shouted at me:
Where did all this water come from?
I brought it from the Nile.
And the trees?
From the orchards of Damascus.
And the music?
From my heartbeat.
The prison guard got mad.
He put an end to my dialogue.
He said he didn't like my poetry,
And bolted the door of my cell.
But he returned in the evening:
Where did this moon come from?
From the nights of Baghdad.
And the wine?
From the vineyards of Algiers.
And this freedom?
From the chain you tied me with last night.
The prison guard grew so sad...
He begged me to give him back
His freedom.
— Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008)
Translated by Ben Bennani
Stupid Blogger
I did an amazing amount of shit talking in the comments of my brother's crappy blog, and NONE OF THEM ARE SHOWING UP!
DAMN YOU, BLOGGER!
DAMN YOU, BLOGGER!
New Sport
Running Buddy and I are off to play some tennis today. Neither of us has ever played tennis before. In fact, we have to stop somewhere on the way to buy the necessary gear.
Should be interesting, to say the least.
Think if I sprint around enough, I can count it as a speed workout?
Should be interesting, to say the least.
Think if I sprint around enough, I can count it as a speed workout?
Only one of those pictures is an actual giraffe, but I'm not telling which one.
Hmmm...
I've left quite a few comments on random blogs here and there, and I'm noticing that none of them are showing up.
Either the entire world hates me and is deleting them as soon as I post, or something's wrong...
Suggestions?
Either the entire world hates me and is deleting them as soon as I post, or something's wrong...
Suggestions?
Living Wall
For some reason this summer I'm having a really hard time getting my outdoor garden up and running. Not sure what I'm doing wrong, but with the exception of 2 tomato plants and a little bit of lettuce, everything I plant has withered up. Like, overnight. Bummer, I know. Living alone, I don't really need to grow as much as I was trying to but I miss the meditative state that an afternoon of gardening would put me in. And, being underemployed in a new city with almost no friends, I really need some constructive ways to fill my time.
Since the outdoor gardening thing wasn't working, I recently made one of these in my kitchen. I love it! It's about 5 ft wide by 4 ft tall. Figuring out the hydration system has been the toughest part - I'm still tweaking it a bit. Also, I thought it would be fun to try some hydroponic stuff in the reservoir (think lettuce and strawberries, not pot) but despite TONS of research on the webz and feeling pretty confident that I did everything right, nothing grew. It's not that they died (though some of the plants on the actual wall haven't made it), they just didn't do anything. Just stayed in their little seedling state forever, until they got a little slimy in the water and I became worried about the safety of eating them (salmonella is a big concern with hydroponics), so I scrapped them. Still debating whether to try again.
Patrick Blanc is the man when it comes to living walls. He did the Cal Academy of Sciences, The Drew School, and a zillion other amazing walls all over the world. If you're digging the concept or looking to waste a bit of time online, google him.
Here's some pics of other walls - I'll try to take/post some of my own soon!
Since the outdoor gardening thing wasn't working, I recently made one of these in my kitchen. I love it! It's about 5 ft wide by 4 ft tall. Figuring out the hydration system has been the toughest part - I'm still tweaking it a bit. Also, I thought it would be fun to try some hydroponic stuff in the reservoir (think lettuce and strawberries, not pot) but despite TONS of research on the webz and feeling pretty confident that I did everything right, nothing grew. It's not that they died (though some of the plants on the actual wall haven't made it), they just didn't do anything. Just stayed in their little seedling state forever, until they got a little slimy in the water and I became worried about the safety of eating them (salmonella is a big concern with hydroponics), so I scrapped them. Still debating whether to try again.
Patrick Blanc is the man when it comes to living walls. He did the Cal Academy of Sciences, The Drew School, and a zillion other amazing walls all over the world. If you're digging the concept or looking to waste a bit of time online, google him.
Here's some pics of other walls - I'll try to take/post some of my own soon!
10 July 2011
Poetry
I love it. I love, love, love it.
I've got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe
chills me I need you
and look out the window
at the noiseless snow
At night on the dock
the buses glow like
clouds and I am lonely
thinking of flutes
I miss you always
when I go to the beach
the sand is wet with
tears that seem mine
although I never weep
and hold you in my
heart with a very real
humor you'd be proud of
the parking lot is
crowded and I stand
rattling my keys the car
is empty as a bicycle
what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies it
is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence you depress
me when you are alone
Last night the stars
were numerous and today
snow is their calling
card I'll not be cordial
there is nothing that
distracts me music is
only a crossword puzzle
do you know how it is
when you are the only
passenger if there is a
place further from me
I beg you do not go
by: Frank O'Hara
MORNING
I've got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe
chills me I need you
and look out the window
at the noiseless snow
At night on the dock
the buses glow like
clouds and I am lonely
thinking of flutes
I miss you always
when I go to the beach
the sand is wet with
tears that seem mine
although I never weep
and hold you in my
heart with a very real
humor you'd be proud of
the parking lot is
crowded and I stand
rattling my keys the car
is empty as a bicycle
what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies it
is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence you depress
me when you are alone
Last night the stars
were numerous and today
snow is their calling
card I'll not be cordial
there is nothing that
distracts me music is
only a crossword puzzle
do you know how it is
when you are the only
passenger if there is a
place further from me
I beg you do not go
by: Frank O'Hara
Aquatic Park
Time spent swimming: A bit more than half an hour.
Time spent looking for parking: 27 minutes, cut short only because I decided to park illegally.
Stupid SF.
Time spent looking for parking: 27 minutes, cut short only because I decided to park illegally.
Stupid SF.
09 July 2011
Weekly Totals
Run: 12
Swim: .75
Bike: 0
Hike: 0
Ridiculously lame week, mostly due to the 4th of July weekend, which was spent on a lovely boat on a lovely lake with lovely people. Hard to log a lot of miles when you're throwing back beers on a boat. I only ran 3 days this week. Hopefully this upcoming week will more than double my activity levels.
Starting to swim at Aquatic Park has been awesome, though! Now if only I could learn to swim in a straight line!
Swim: .75
Bike: 0
Hike: 0
Ridiculously lame week, mostly due to the 4th of July weekend, which was spent on a lovely boat on a lovely lake with lovely people. Hard to log a lot of miles when you're throwing back beers on a boat. I only ran 3 days this week. Hopefully this upcoming week will more than double my activity levels.
Starting to swim at Aquatic Park has been awesome, though! Now if only I could learn to swim in a straight line!
Western States 100
...Also known as: You guys go ahead and run 100 miles. I'll hang out here and drink beer.
My brother JT and I took a road trip to Tahoe City to help crew a buddy who had won a spot in the Western States lottery. Hard to believe anyone would consider running 100 miles to be winning anything, but hey, whatev. I had never crewed/witnessed an entire ultra before, so I was pretty excited to be part of it. Most of crewing, unless you're pacing, involves sitting around at an aid station waiting for your runner to come in so if you ever find yourself in this position take my advice and be sure you're stocked up with plenty of beer, and maybe a book and/or fully charged iPod.
The race starts at Squaw Valley, and finishes in Auburn, which are two parts of CA I had never been to before. The interwebz told me it would be about a 3 - 4 hour drive. Thanks to me needing to stop at every brewpub on the way, and JT needing to stop at every In N Out, it took us a mere 11 hours to make the trip.
The race started at 5:00 a.m., which means we were up at 3:30. It's definitely easier to stay awake until 3:30 than it is to actually drag your ass out of bed at 3:30, even if that ass is smooshed into a hotel room with a bunch of other stinky runners. After the check in and start, we headed to the aid station at mile 55 to wait for our runner. The highlight (for me) was seeing Kilian Jornet, who is actually my boyfriend. Sort of. I mean, he's definitely my boyfriend in my mind. I just have to figure out a way to meet him and let him in on this little secret. I'm sure he'll be thrilled.
John C. finished, with some pacing help from my bro and his buddy Dave. Watching people cross the finish after running 100 miles was pretty awesome and inspiring. Not "I wanna run 100 miles" inspiring, but it has been a little easier getting out the door for my few mile jaunts since then.
01 July 2011
The Sausalito Debacle
Yesterday, I jogged/walked/shuffled/at one point just gave up and sprawled out flat on my back on the ground through Sausalito. Sausalito is incredibly beautiful, but hot damn if that place isn't one fucking hill after another! I'll spare you the gory details, but it wasn't a good run for me. I doubt it was very pretty for anyone who witnessed any of it, either.
In my defense, I hadn't planned on going running. I had sent a text to my running buddy to see if he wanted to run, and when I didn't hear back from him within .03 seconds, I figured I was in the clear. So, I ate lunch. Enough lunch for 6 people. And had some beer. And then the MF'er confirms that he does, indeed, want to run. In 30 minutes.
In hindsight, I should've said no. But instead, I was all, "Better make it 45, cause I gotta finish my beer first!" I'm a moron.
We decided on Sausalito. Actually, I think I pushed for Sausalito because I knew the drive over there would buy me some time.
What I said: "We can run along the waterfront! It'll be so beautiful...the sun will be shining, the birds will be chirping, there will be double rainbows and unicorns around every corner. We should totally drive over there!"
What I meant: "If you don't give me the 25 minutes rest it will take us to drive over there (oh God, please let there be traffic) I guarantee I will puke all over you before the 1st mile mark."
I am an excellent negotiator. We headed to Sausalito.
So, we hopped in Einstein, and while he chatted on about whatever he had done over the past few days since I had seen him last, I sat silently in the passenger seat, begging and pleading with my digestive system to hurry the fuck up, and also kindly requesting my body to overlook the fact that I hadn't had a sip of anything non-alcoholic in about 3 days.
I am ALWAYS a slow runner, but man oh man did I ever take slowness to a new level. I did manage not to puke, but only because at one point, while running up a never ending staircase, I stopped, layed (laid? I'll never get that right) down on one of the steps, and declared that this running nonsense could get fucked, from now on my hobby of choice would be napping in the sun.
I did, eventually, make it back to the car. I was a sweaty, red-faced, rapid heart beating, partly bent over, gasping for breath mess. My running buddy was all, "Hey! Great warm up! You ready to run now?"
I am an excellent negotiator. We walked to the nearest bar.
In my defense, I hadn't planned on going running. I had sent a text to my running buddy to see if he wanted to run, and when I didn't hear back from him within .03 seconds, I figured I was in the clear. So, I ate lunch. Enough lunch for 6 people. And had some beer. And then the MF'er confirms that he does, indeed, want to run. In 30 minutes.
In hindsight, I should've said no. But instead, I was all, "Better make it 45, cause I gotta finish my beer first!" I'm a moron.
We decided on Sausalito. Actually, I think I pushed for Sausalito because I knew the drive over there would buy me some time.
What I said: "We can run along the waterfront! It'll be so beautiful...the sun will be shining, the birds will be chirping, there will be double rainbows and unicorns around every corner. We should totally drive over there!"
What I meant: "If you don't give me the 25 minutes rest it will take us to drive over there (oh God, please let there be traffic) I guarantee I will puke all over you before the 1st mile mark."
I am an excellent negotiator. We headed to Sausalito.
So, we hopped in Einstein, and while he chatted on about whatever he had done over the past few days since I had seen him last, I sat silently in the passenger seat, begging and pleading with my digestive system to hurry the fuck up, and also kindly requesting my body to overlook the fact that I hadn't had a sip of anything non-alcoholic in about 3 days.
I am ALWAYS a slow runner, but man oh man did I ever take slowness to a new level. I did manage not to puke, but only because at one point, while running up a never ending staircase, I stopped, layed (laid? I'll never get that right) down on one of the steps, and declared that this running nonsense could get fucked, from now on my hobby of choice would be napping in the sun.
I did, eventually, make it back to the car. I was a sweaty, red-faced, rapid heart beating, partly bent over, gasping for breath mess. My running buddy was all, "Hey! Great warm up! You ready to run now?"
I am an excellent negotiator. We walked to the nearest bar.
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